


Awkward Sleeping Arrangements

by knightcommanderalenko



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 03:44:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4419920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightcommanderalenko/pseuds/knightcommanderalenko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having to share a room and a bed at the Weatherly Hotel, the Lone Wanderer wakes to find that Butch is a) a heavy sleeper, and b) a lot more amorous than she'd ever dreamed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awkward Sleeping Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to kalenkos and noblehouseoftargaryen for metaphorically kicking me in the butt and getting me to actually finish this x

Atalanta woke with a start. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out what had done it; her Pip-Boy was silent on the floor beside the bed, and the sun was not yet up. However, once she realised that there was a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist and a bulge pressed against her backside, she figured out exactly what had happened.

When they’d found out that the room they’d rented in the Weatherly Hotel only had one bed, Atalanta had half a mind to go back and spend more caps on another one. However, it had only taken an easy smile from her companion, and an assurance that he “didn’t bite, unless she wanted him to,” to convince her otherwise. She’d rolled her eyes at his comment, and put it entirely out of her mind.

Until now.

From what she could guess, he was still deeply asleep, and from what she’d learnt in the vault – from her father, of all people – men often got hard during the night through no fault of their own. However, she’d never expected it to be pressed up against her, and she’d also never expected it to come from Butch DeLoria.

What made it worse, or perhaps better she wasn’t entirely sure, was that he was mumbling something. Naturally, it wasn’t entirely clear but she heard “baby” and what sounded suspiciously like her name.

Atalanta closed her eyes, hoping that it would help her concentrate. With all her brain-power going towards thinking, she didn’t notice a warm hand snaking its way further around her until all of Butch was pressed against all of her, and that he was as hard as rock and grinding against her backside.

Atalanta was at a loss. Should she attempt to wake him, therefore getting herself out of this awkward situation, or should she leave Butch be? If she did, however, the rate in which he ground his sizeable length against her arse would mean a long and torturous night for her.

Somehow, Butch managed to unconsciously wriggle closer to her which resulted in Atalanta having to bite back a moan. She didn’t know how he’d done it, but both the friction against her backside and Butch breathing into her ear made her warm in all the right places.

“’Lanta,” he mumbled again, pressing himself more firmly into her. He was still deeply asleep, and at this point she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, as she was becoming more frustrated and aroused by the minute. There was only so much foreplay a girl could take, and even asleep, Butch DeLoria was delivering.

Sure, she’d always thought her ‘friend’ was hot as sin – even back when they were both still stuck in the vault – and she had _maybe_ thought about fucking the man. Never in her wildest dreams would she expect anything to actually come of it; he was Butch DeLoria, for fuck’s sake! While his roguish smile and those baby-blues did wonders in her fantasies, in real life, he was a bit of an ass.

However, the bulge pressed into her backside was a stark reminder of the fact that Butch was very real, and this was not one of her fantasies.

Atalanta made to wriggle out of his iron-like grip, but aside from waking him up, there was nothing she could do. What he was unconsciously doing to her wasn’t at all unwelcome, but it was a shade too awkward for her liking. If anything were to hypothetically happen between them, she’s want him to be awake and actually consenting. That would be a lot less awkward than him waking up, still fully hard and pressing against her backside, and _then_ having a conversation about it.

Having decided that waking Butch was the least traumatic of all possible scenarios, Atalanta was left with the challenge of trying to figure out _how_ to wake him up. As she was trapped in his almost vice-like grip, she couldn’t roll over, nor could she reach around to poke him. She also wasn’t going to make a noise to startle him awake as she didn’t want to wake the people sleeping in the rooms around them, nor did she want to give him a heart attack.  

“Butch,” Atalanta whispered, praying to any gods that were listening that he would actually hear her.

Unfortunately for her, he didn’t. He continued to grind against her like she was the only thing his still-sleeping mind thought would provide him with satisfaction. His mind probably wasn’t wrong as there was shit-all else on the bed apart from her and the suspiciously stained covers, but surely a pillow would have worked for friction just as well.

At this point, Atalanta was both equally aroused and pissed off. It wasn’t fair on her that he was asleep and that she couldn’t get out of his hold to sort herself out. She couldn’t even reach between her legs, for fuck’s sake!

“Butch,” she tried again, louder than before.

This time, he actually responded. He made a small mumbling noise against the back of her neck, but kept his eyes tightly shut. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress none the less.

There was a saying that Atalanta remembered her father telling her once. It was in common use before the war; the third time being the charm, or something? Regardless of the actual phrasing, she hoped that it would be true for her tonight.

“Butch!”

He jerked awake, his blue eyes flying open. Unfortunately for them both, it caused his body to jolt as well, causing his crotch to press even more fervently against her arse.

Even less intelligent just after waking than he was normally, Butch shot her a look of complete indignation. “What?” he demanded, “I was having a great dream!”

Atalanta snorted. “Yeah, I think I can tell.”

Even though she couldn’t see him, she could tell by his pregnant pause that the cogs in his brain were finally churning. She had wanted to see his reaction to everything that was going on, but imagining the look on his face was almost as good.

Butch cleared his throat. “I- I don’t know what just happened…”

“Neither do I,” Atalanta replied, “but you can start by letting me go.”

He complied almost immediately, and Atalanta rolled out of his grip with a grateful sigh. She could feel the places on her body where his hands hand pressed against her, and she knew that it was going to leave marks. Butch was a lot stronger than she gave him credit for, it seemed.

“So…” she said, breaking the silence. “Do we go back to sleep and pretend this never happened, or…?” Atalanta didn’t really know what any other outcome to this could be, aside from the unlikely instance that Butch would consent to fixing her problem.

He didn’t answer straight away, but instead looked as if he were doing some serious thinking. That was never good.

“I don’t think I’m gonna be sleeping like this,” he replied finally, “and from the way you’re rubbing your legs together, I don’t think you will be, either.”

Atalanta was shocked that he’d even noticed. Given Butch’s inclination to think of himself hours before he did others, the fact that he’d noticed was a strange, yet welcome surprise. She gave him a wry smile. “Well, I wouldn’t be in this position if not for you.”

He returned her smile, although his was a lot more lecherous than hers had ever been. “I fucking _knew_ you liked me.”

Rolling her eyes in response, Atalanta wriggled further away, and off the edge of the bed. Butch gave her a quizzical look, one that turned into complete and utter amazement when she grabbed the hem of her shirt.

“We doing this or not, DeLoria?”

Before she could even move to take it off, Butch lunged forward and pulled her back onto the bed. He pulled her close, pressing her against him as his mouth met hers in a hungry kiss. His tongue snaked its way into her mouth, and he kissed her with a passion that spoke of how much he wanted- no, _needed_ , her.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to do that?” He asked as they broke away for air.

Atalanta shook her head. She really had no idea; for all she knew, he could have liked her for years and she’d never have noticed a thing.

“Too damn long, baby.”

Butch brought her back in for another kiss, but this one was slower than the last. It was just as heated, but it was more of slow-burning fire rather than the all-consuming inferno it had been before. Either way, Atalanta was surprised at how good Butch was at this, and mentally kicked herself that they hadn’t done this before.

While she was distracted by his talented mouth and tongue, Atalanta initially failed to realise that Butch’s hand had moved down her body. He moved it slowly, mapping out her neck and collarbones, before he gently flicked her nipple.

Atalanta froze against him, causing Butch to pull back in concern. “’Lanta?”

“Do that again.”

Butch repeated his action, and gave his lover an impish grin when she whimpered and pushed her breasts further into his palm. “You like that, huh?”

Atalanta’s only response was to grab Butch’s head and bring him back into another searing kiss. She had no idea why that had felt so good; it certainly hadn’t felt anything like that when she’d touched them herself, nor when anyone else had. For the second time that evening, Atalanta came to the realisation that Butch was more talented than he first appeared.

She pushed him back for a moment, ignoring his noise of irritation, and pulled off her shirt. Atalanta didn’t even have to look at Butch to tell that his gaze had fallen squarely onto her newly-exposed chest.

“See something you like?”

He nodded noiselessly as he returned his hands to her body. Like before, he toyed with her breasts, but changed it up by taking one into his mouth.

If Atalanta thought his fingers felt good, then damn, his mouth felt simply divine. Her fingers found their way to the back of his head, and entwined themselves in his dark strands as she pushed his head closer to her. She felt him smile against her skin, and she let out a moan as he pulled her nipple between his teeth. Butch was a lot better at this than Atalanta was ever expecting, and holy hell, if it was this good now, what was it going to feel like when he was actually inside her?

Once again, Atalanta failed to notice Butch’s wandering hands until one of them slipped past the waistband of her underwear.

“I really got you going, didn’t I?” Butch asked, his voice muffled by the flesh of her breast. “You’re almost dripping, baby.”

Butch calling her ‘baby’ was foreign to Atalanta’s ears, but she couldn’t deny that she liked it a whole fucking lot. And as far as she was concerned, he could be as cocky as he liked if his fucking was as good as his foreplay.

“What are you waiting for, DeLoria?” she retorted. “A sign from God?” As much as she wanted the feel of him between her legs, if Butch didn’t put his money where his mouth was – well, technically his fingers had just been –she’d push him off the bed and take care of things herself.

“Alright, alright,” he replied with a chuckle, “you want the tunn-“

Atalanta stopped him. “If you refer to your cock as a ‘tunnel snake,’ then this,” she indicated between them, “isn’t happening.”

“C’mon, baby,” he replied, his voice a whole lot lower than it had been before, “don’t steal all my fun.”

She rolled her eyes. Honestly, she’d let him win this one if he’d just fuck her already.

Butch gave her another impish smile before lightly pushing her back onto the bed. Atalanta saw him watching her, his eyes once again trained on her breasts, and how they bounced as she landed. She saw how hard he was, straining against the fabric of his underwear, and eyed it appreciatively. She didn’t think she’d need Butch to tell her how ready she was; hell, she was wet enough to take him in without it hurting her at all.

All she could think about was what he was going to feel like; how he’d stretch her, fill her up until she was writhing beneath him and moaning his name. No, what she needed, now more than anything, was Butch’s mouth against hers and his cock buried between her legs.

She reached up and grabbed Butch’s arm, a silent hint for him to move closer to her. Surprisingly, he actually understood what she meant and allowed her to move him into the position that she wanted. At this point, Atalanta wasn’t thinking about _how_ she wanted Butch, only that she did, and ended up wrapping her legs around his waist and grinding her naked heat against him.

She heard Butch let out an involuntary moan as their hips connected. Atalanta was of the opinion that he was still wearing too many clothes, and the faster he was naked against her, the better. So she unlocked her ankles from behind his back, allowing him to finally remove his underwear, and pulled him back to her before the discarded fabric actually hit the floor.

Given the way his cock strained against her belly, she knew that he wanted and needed her just as much as she did him. “Butch,” she whined against his lips, “please.”

Atalanta felt him chuckle against her, his hot breath against her lips and his cock rubbing deliciously against the skin of her lower belly. God, she wanted him so badly – had done so for years – and now she was finally going to see if Butch was more than just talk.

The dark look in his eyes as he let her go was enough to send another bolt of heat straight to her core. Butch gazed at her, one eyebrow raised and his typical smirk planted firmly on his lips. “You sure, baby girl, because I can wait some more if you want?”

Atalanta knew that was a lie. She could see it in the way he gazed hungrily at her body and the way his cock twitched and strained against her belly that he was just as desperate for this, if not more, than she was.

He had let her go, but still leant over her, his hips resting the cradle of hers. Atalanta rolled them into his, one last time, and hoped that he’d get the message. “I want you, Butch. Now.”

He looked up, his blue eyes boring into hers. He hadn’t entered her, but instead moved himself to her entrance. It seemed to Atalanta that he was making sure that she actually wanted this, one last time. She wasn’t surprised per se, because Lord knows their relationship had been strained when they were younger, but she hadn’t really expected this sort of maturity from the man.

To answer his unspoken question, Atalanta tightened her legs around his waist and urged him forward. The moan he let out as he slipped into her was music to her ears, and Atalanta desperately wanted him to make it again. She didn’t care how long it took, or really what she’d have to do, because that moan was both sinful and holy all at once.

Butch pushed in slowly, more to her benefit than his, and Atalanta revelled in it. From this angle and this speed, she could feel every solid inch of him stretching her – creating that most exquisite pleasure that warmed her to the core.

He stilled once he was fully inside her, barely rocking his hips against hers as she accommodated to his size. While she wanted nothing more than for him to openly take control and just pound her into the mattress, she also wanted this to last as long as possible. Maybe it was the dim light in the room that added an element of intimacy, or maybe it was just the fact that he was between her legs, but Atalanta couldn’t help but realise that Butch was a lot more special to her than she’d thought the day before.

She moaned out his name, louder than she’d meant to, as he withdrew completely, and let out a whimper as he pushed back in. He seemed to realise that she was well and truly ready for him, and so set a pace that had her tits bouncing with each thrust; but it still wasn’t enough to feed the flames of desire that had nurtured between them.

She unlocked her ankles from his waist and placed her feet back on the bed. It gave her more leverage to roll her hips against his, but also allowed him a greater range of movement.

As her lover’s pace increased, so did her need. Atalanta squeezed her hand between their bodies to rub at her clit. Butch stretched her deliciously with each cant of his hips against hers, and she was so fucking close…

She let out a cry of indignation as he pulled her hands away and placed them against the lumpy pillows behind her head. She wriggled slightly, testing the grasp he held on her before relaxing back into the mattress. Considering how concerned he’d been about her consent before, she knew that he would let her go if she said anything. It would be highly unlikely that she would protest, but it was comforting to know that he would actually let her go if she did. 

She almost arched completely off the bed when Butch’s fingers replaced her own. He didn’t know exactly how she liked to be touched, but all that did was delay her orgasm even further. While she didn’t like it now, Atalanta knew that the longer and higher he built her up, the more powerful her orgasm would be when she did eventually fall over the edge. And it didn’t take her long. If by skill or sheer dumb luck, Butch figured out how to rub her clit in a way that had her moaning and whimpering his name.

“You’re so gorgeous when you call my name, baby,” he said, exhaling sharply. “You gonna come for me?”

Atalanta swore. She was so fucking close, and Butch had called her ‘baby’ and ‘gorgeous’ and those two words, plus the feeling of his hand over hers, his fingers teasing her clit, and his cock filling her over and over was just too much. She came with a cry, and like before his name fell from her lips like a litany. Her hips pressed further into his as she arched up, and her walls fluttered endlessly around his cock.

Butch himself came not a few moments later. He prolonged her orgasm for as long as he was able before reaching his own. He spilt into her with a wordless moan, his head thrown back, for all of Rivet City to hear.

He flopped bonelessly onto her, and Atalanta had to admit that she didn’t mind at all. His skin was hot against hers and covered in a fine sheen of sweat, but he’d never looked so attractive to her before. Knowing that he thought she was gorgeous was one thing, but that look she’d seen in his eyes when he held himself at her entrance told her that he cared for her more than he’d admit – both to himself and to her.

“You were right,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “I _do_ fucking like you.”


End file.
